


Alabama, Arkansas

by ofCloudlessClimesandStarrySkies



Series: Home is wherever I'm with you- The unabashed bunker fluff series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker buddies, Castiel Loves Cats, Castiel and Meg - Platonic besties for life, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean and Meg are frenemies, F/M, M/M, Meg has feelings, Meg is done with subtext, Meg loves Captain Mo's, Nerd Rants, Sam is awkward, Unresolved Romantic Tension, unabashed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:11:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5466035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofCloudlessClimesandStarrySkies/pseuds/ofCloudlessClimesandStarrySkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg was more than ready for 'Destiel' to buck up and bang each other like they should've a long time ago. She wasn't, however, prepared for those warm and fuzzies to start rubbing off on her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alabama, Arkansas

To say the bunker was a cesspool of unresolved tension would be putting it mildly. Especially with Dean and Cas around. Pussy footing around all the livelong day, not actually doing anything. Whether they were a bromance or a Casa Erotica special was unclear, but it wouldn't be any less murky if they kept the frozen, ice wall act up. This would be a problem for many reasons. 1) No rest or relaxation to be had when everywhere a girl turned there was eye sex and pining. 2) It was plain annoying to have to play middle woman for those two. Meg was not a mediator, she did not like to be a messenger when they were too awkward to deal with each other. And 3) This whole undying love was getting under her skin. She was actually...rooting for them. Getting all riled up like a fucking fan girl. And feeling things of her own. Gross. In particular, towards a certain younger Winchester. Bad Meg. No feelings. So the sooner those two admitted their feelings, the sooner she could go back to mocking them, and scrub clean the yearning that gnawed at her borrowed insides. "I swear to god if those two don't buck up soon..." Meg groused, mostly to herself, as the only other sane person (out of four, mind you) was, as usual, absorbed in his god damn research. "Mmf?" Sam mumbled in response, somewhere between a huff and a whine, as he looked up a moment later.  
"And the lines between man and moose continue to blur..." The dark haired demon teased, smirk widening especially as Sam's bitch face started to show.  
"Ha ha, whatever Meg. Feel like helping?" Her nose wrinkled a little at that idea. The mass of literature surrounding him would make anyone's head spin. But, determined as ever, he wouldn't rest until he found the answer. That boy needed fun, stat. The stress relieving fun of the naughty variety. And she'd be more than happy to supply it. Who in their sane mind wouldn't be? Sam was essentially sex on two legs. "Mm, dusty books and highlighters, you sure know how to rev a girl's engine, Sugar." She purred, testing the waters with a none too subtle lean over to flash a little cleavage. In a way that probably seemed more like 'I'm trying to fuck with you' than 'I want to fuck you'.  
He sputtered a little, indignant, and she marvelled at after everything he'd been through, apocalypses and creepy crawlers alike, she still got him flustered.

A few days later she was, like always, minding her own business, struggling to reach the bottle of spiced rum, naturally placed on the highest fucking shelf in the kitchen. Dean's idea, no doubt. Something about her 'not needing it'. Therefore, Meg had been reduced to contorting in to some strange hell pretzel to even dream about getting it down. That was, until a gruff voice startled her and she just about keeled over. "Meg, I wish to speak with you."  
"Motherfuck Clarence! Try not to break a gal's neck." She grumbled, as her fingers gripped on to the shelf, helping her steady. Feet desperate to stay planted on the counter.  
"I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you." He murmured, obviously a little ashamed. "Ah forget it, what's eating you?" The demon inquired as she gingerly lowered herself down, wobbling to her feet.  
The angel's brow furrowed for a moment as he thought out a response. Wheels turning. He understood slang a little better now but it took practice. "Luckily not anything currently. But I was wondering if maybe you'd like to spend time together today."  
That surprised Meg. Of course, she cared about Clarence, felt protective of him, even, however silly that seemed. But they didn't hang out. Or talk really, ever. Not since the hospital. He was busy pining for Dean, allegedly anyway, and she figured maybe he didn't feel much other than a distanced respect. She'd looked after him, and he owed her. That was it. But here he was now. As casual as Castiel could ever be.  
"Sure...but don't you and the wonder twins usually have cases or something?" She questioned, arching an eyebrow.  
"Sam and Dean do, yes. But I thought I'd prefer your company."  
He smiled, a little shyly, and slap her sideways if it didn't make her melt like a sulphuric puddle. He looked so damn tentative and sweet, she almost wanted to hold him and shield him from the world. Maybe this was how sisters were supposed to feel. "In that case, wanna do each other's hair and talk about boys?" She teased, voice taking on the drawl of a teen soap star. Not serious in the slightest. Clearly, Clarence didn't pick up on that. "Actually, yes. Though I admit I am unskilled in coiffing women's hair. But Dean has been rather confusing lately, and I'm hoping you can help."  
Meg face palmed quite deliberately. "If we're gonna do this, get me that rum. I need a drink."

Cut to an hour and 10 shots (on Meg's part) later, the demon and the angel were sprawled upside down on the couch in the 'living room', with mussed hair and painted nails. Why? Because boredom could do crazy things. "Good lord, I am never letting you bitch to me again." The brunette grumbled, pulling at the lopsided braids Cas had surprisingly managed to do in her dark curls. Hearing about how he didn't know what he and Dean were, or were supposed to be made her stomach roll. Such a soap opera, those two. "I do really appreciate it, Meg. I have missed us spending time together." The angel replied, and immediately she had to forgive him. "Don't mention it, tree topper." His brow furrowed. "Meg I am not an ornament for semi pagan festivities. Now then, would you like to share anything? You seem...troubled."  
The demon scoffed. "Kind of part of my bag, smartie. But I'm mostly fine right now."  
"I do not believe you." Cas stated, almost smugly. Meg narrowed her eyes, craning her neck to glare at him. The old, porous material of the couch was scratchy. This thing was probably older than the bunker.  
"It's nothing. Honest. Ok?" She supplied as his impossibly blue eyes fixed her with a studious sort of look.  
"I just...I like him." Her tongue, loosened by burning liquor, had betrayed her. "You like who?" The man next to her was persistent, he wouldn't be one to let a damn thing go. "No one. What? Me? Pfft." She was quick to try and cover her tracks, stumbling awkwardly to her feet. "Right. I need to go fix this mess you made on my head, be back in a jiff."  
"Meghan you're acting strangely. Confide in me, you know you can." Clarence replied. "That's not even my name. And I have nothing to tell, you won't hear me bitching about boys." She murmured, regaining her composure as she sauntered off.  
Totally full of shit of course, but when would she ever admit that? The only thing the demon was better at than smacking down others with her impeccable sass, was swallowing secrets that burned in her abdomen like erratic sparks. Of course, when you'd had literal hot coals shoved down your gullet, it seemed bearable enough.


End file.
